


you did this to yourself

by emblems



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Makoto and Sousuke are co-coaches at a swim club, Post-Canon, Shower Sex, bottom!Makoto, exhibition kink kinda?, makoto wearing sousuke's old samezuka jacket oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblems/pseuds/emblems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are at least six reasons they shouldn't do this here. </p><p>Makoto is struggling with the validity of these reasons, but somewhere in his objective mind he knows that having sex in the swim club—at their place of <i>work<i>—is not a good idea. His objectivity is rapidly shrinking, however. There's probably a graph that shows the inverse relationship between his objectivity and Sousuke's increasing proximity.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you did this to yourself

He's trying to see if there's room in the back of their shared closet when he finds it. It's the same as he remembers it—black, with the accented sleeves set off by red and white. 

Makoto would be hard-pressed to forget the Samezuka team jacket. He holds it in his hands for a few seconds, the laundry basket next to him momentarily forgotten.

"Sousuke?" he calls out.

"Yeah?" Sousuke responds, over the sounds of dinner cooking in the kitchen.

"You still have this?" Makoto asks, moving into the central living space so Sousuke can see what he's holding.

Sousuke squints as he determines what exactly Makoto is referring to; it's when his cheeks go slightly pink that Makoto knows he's put two and two together.

Clearing his throat, Sousuke goes back to chopping the vegetables.

Makoto finds himself smiling. "You're really much more sentimental than you let on," he says.

Sousuke looks up at Makoto then, smiling just a little now. "Living together for nearly five years now and you hadn't picked up on that?"

Makoto feels a warmth spread through his chest. "It's nice to get reminders every so often," he says. He holds it up in front of him, and he flickers his gaze from the jacket to Sousuke and then back again. 

"Does it even still fit?"

Sousuke shakes his head. "It was already tight in high school—no way it'd fit now."

Makoto eyes it for a moment before he comes to a decision. He unzips it and then pushes one arm through, and then the other, until the jacket rests evenly on his shoulders.

Immediately, he knows Sousuke is right; it's just a little snug on Makoto's shoulders, no way it'd fit on Sousuke's frame, which is just slightly broader than his.

When he looks up, there's a joke like 'so how do I look in Samezuka colors' resting on his lips. Except, well—when he meets Sousuke's eyes he finds himself taken aback by the _focus_ in his expression. 

"Sousuke?"

Sousuke starts, eyes coming back into focus. He averts his gaze. "Maybe—" he clears his throat. "Don't wear that jacket, Makoto, okay?"

Makoto squints. Was it too emotional, or—

No. No, that wasn't it at all. Realization dawns on Makoto quickly, and he can't help but smile. 

"Yamazaki Sousuke," he says, walking into the kitchen so he stands just next to Sousuke's shoulder. He tilts his head, as though he'll manage to catch Sousuke's eyes (his boyfriend is pointedly ignoring him, though).

"Are you turned on right now?"

"I'm not answering that," Sousuke answers. "Because if I do we will both end up distracted, and you'll keep that jacket on, and then dinner will burn and the laundry definitely won't get done, and we definitely do not want that." He's still red in the face.

It's so rare to see Sousuke flustered, Makoto can't help but giggle even as Sousuke extracts himself to tend to the soup on the stove.

"I gues I'll take it off, then," he says, humming under his breath as he returns to the bedroom.

He's about to hang up the jacket when he pauses. 

After glancing out the door to make sure Sousuke is focused on dinner, Makoto edges over to his gym bag, prepared for their day at the swim club the next day. 

He'd been planning on wearing his rash guard, but, well... he can certainly make some adjustments just this once.

* * *

Makoto is stuck in the office doing paperwork for the first half of the day, while Sousuke works with the upper-level swimmers. More than usual, Makoto finds himself antsy for his session to get started so he can get changed. 

The jacket sitting in his bag burns a hole in his mind all day, until finally he sees the first of his students start to trickle in. He grabs his bag and heads for the changing rooms to get dressed.

He's quick; he wants to catch Sousuke while he's still packing up the gear from his session. Without a word of greeting, he enters the main pool area and starts going about his business, grabbing the stack of kickboards from the shelf and setting a few at each lane. He exchanges greetings with his students as they clamber into the water excitedly, as well as with a few of the parents. Some of them comment on his jacket, mentioning they had never seen those particular colors before, if it's Makoto's old high school jacket—

He laughs and explains it was a high school in his town, yes, that Coach Yamazaki was lending it to him for the day because Makoto was foolish enough to leave his rash guard behind that day.

It's just before he's about to get practice started that he finally notices the way Sousuke is openly staring; it's something like disbelief, colored with that same intent focus he saw the night before.

Makoto offers nothing but a bright smile in response.

He goes about coaching his class as usual, and more than one of them is curious about his jacket. He indulges them and tells them about Iwatobi and Samezuka, about joint practices where he met Coach Yamazaki for the first time, and they tread water in silence, eyes wide with curiosity.

All the while, Makoto can feel Sousuke's gaze boring into him.

The hour passes quickly. When the last straggler is picked up, Makoto retreats to the showers, eager to get the chlorine off his skin. Standing at the threshold of one of the stalls, he unzips the jacket.

It occurs to Makoto that he probably should have seen what was coming next.

He'd been duly warned, after all.

He'd practically invited it unto himself.

And he can't say his intentions were entirely innocent.

Not that he has any regrets.

A firm hand grabs his upper arm and jerks him against the wall. 

Teal eyes meet his, and Makoto's breath catches. 

No. No, he has _no_ regrets whatsoever.

Sousuke presses against him, hands on either side of Makoto against the wall. 

Though—well, Makoto is fully aware that he has set himself up for this. Completely and totally. He brought this on himself.

He has to say, though, he isn't sure he anticipated Sousuke being so impatient he couldn't even wait until they got _home_ —

"Ah," he says, shifting a little under Sousuke's gaze. "Sousuke, I—"

"Hm?" Sousuke drawls, tilting his head as he eyes Makoto up. "What is it?" As if he doesn't know full well.

He draws closer, so his breath ghosts over Makoto's skin. As if by reflex, Makoto's hands jump out to grip Sousuke's hips. This time it's Sousuke's who's breath hitches, and Makoto feels it in detail against his skin.

There are at least six reasons they shouldn't do this here. 

Makoto is struggling with the validity of these reasons, but somewhere in his objective mind he knows that having sex in the swim club—at their place of _work_ —is not a good idea.

His objectivity is rapidly shrinking, however. There's probably a graph that shows the inverse relationship between his objectivity and Sousuke's increasing proximity.

Sousuke presses his mouth to the juncture of Makoto's jaw and neck, drawing his tongue over the sensitive skin there before he sucks and— 

"Ah," Makoto breathes. "Sou—"

Sousuke pulls away just enough to grunt out "hm?" in response, eyes heavy and pupils blown wide. 

His breath against Makoto's skin is doing Makoto absolutely no favors in the cognitive function department, but somehow he manages to get the next few words out.

"Much as—" He breathes through his nose, trying to regain some semblance of coherency. "I'm not complaining, not at all, but do you really think that this is the appropriate place for this—" Sousuke's hands close around Makoto's swimsuit, toying with the waistband.

"You say that as if we haven't done this in the shower before," Sousuke responds, and Makoto feels his smile, both against his own skin and in Sousuke's voice.

"Yes, but never in the showers of the _swim club_ ," Makoto shoots back. "Immediately after _practice_ when anyone could _walk in_ — _Sousuke_!"

Sousuke's hips roll against Makoto's again; he moves so his forehead presses against Makoto, so Makoto can see the smirk pulling at his lips.

"You should have thought about that _before_ you wore my old Samezuka jacket to practice," he says. "Especially since I warned you..." He pushes the jacket down over Makoto's shoulders, exposing the sensitive skin of Makoto's back. 

"To be fair," Makoto retorts (he can't help but be proud he's managed to keep up this long with Sousuke's banter), "you never officially warned me."

Sousuke levels him a look that could've been a glare, if it weren't for his arched brows and the hint of a smirk. 

"I would've thought my reaction was indication enough."

Makoto bites his lips, weighing his next words carefully.

"More like invitation," he finally responds.

Sousuke's eyes somehow manage to go even darker, and he presses even closer—which Makoto hadn't thought possible.

"In that case..." Sousuke mutters, before he resumes his attentions on Makoto's neck.

"Sousuke, we're still—" Makoto's neck arches against his own volition, and he bites his lip to keep himself from groaning aloud. Sousuke sucks at the point where Makoto's shoulder meets his neck, and Makoto knows that he'll need to wear his rash guard to the swim club for the next few days in order to cover the mark that's sure to follow.

Sousuke pulls away and chuckles. As Makoto fights to get his breathing under control, Sousuke presses their foreheads together. 

"Y'know, you'd sound a lot more disapproving if you weren't making those kinds of noises," Sousuke comments dryly.

"Wonder whose fault that is," Makoto mutters. 

In what's probably an attempt to keep Makoto's (admittedly weak, half-hearted) objections to a minimum, Sousuke leans in to press his lips to Makoto's.

Makoto relaxes into the kiss, winding his hands into Sousuke's hair and tugging; his cock twitches at the sound Sousuke makes: a rumble from the back of his throat.

The kiss grows sloppier as time goes on, the sounds loud in the empty locker room. Makoto, not quite so oblivious, becomes more and more aware of the way Sousuke is working the jacket down his arms, until it's finally caught up at Makoto's elbows.

"Sure you want it off?" Makoto mutters against Sousuke's lips.

Sousuke hums, smiling. "I thought you wanted to shower?" he asks.

The implications of Sousuke's question break over Makoto like a wave, and he can't help the shudder that runs down his spine. He throws the jacket to the floor before he tugs Sousuke back into the kiss, backing them both into the stall.

Sousuke reaches behind him to start the water, and they both gasp as the cold water falls on their skin. In an attempt to regain warmth, Sousuke pulls Makoto completely against him, their bodies completely flush now. 

With only two pairs of legskins between them, it's not hard for Makoto to feel the way Sousuke's body is reacting, his erection pressing into his hip.

As the water finally starts to warm up, Makoto pushes Sousuke back against the wall of the shower. He reaches down to thumb at the waistband of Sousuke's suit, and he revels in the way Sousuke's head falls against the tile, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm going to suck you off," Makoto whispers, and he feels his cheeks heat up even as he speaks. "Think you can stay quiet so we don't get caught?"

Sousuke only grunts in response, his hand already covering his mouth. 

Makoto rolls Sousuke's suit down inch by inch, until his cock is finally exposed to the open air in the shower. Sousuke gives a sharp intake of breath, and Makoto leans in to kiss him, absorbing the sounds Sousuke makes as he starts to stroke his cock.

Once he's fully hard, Makoto pulls away, crouching so he's level with Sousuke's cock.

Knowing his cheeks are probably flaming red, a stark contrast to his blown-wide pupils, he looks up to meet Sousuke's gaze. Sousuke's chest heaves as he breathes in and out, but he goes completely still as Makoto finally takes Sousuke's cock in his mouth. 

His hands immediately go to Makoto's hair, fingers tangling in the strands and tugging in a way that makes Makoto's dick twitch. He moans. It's more for Sousuke than himself.

"Ahh-ah—" Sousuke's voice breaks, and the sound sends a shiver down Makoto's spine. He finally starts to move, mouth bobbing up and down Sousuke's shaft.

"Wait," Sousuke breathes. "Makoto, can I—" He bites his lip. He moves one hand to Makoto's shoulder, holding him still.

Makoto immediately understands what Sousuke is after, and he stills. He meets Sousuke's eyes, laying his consent bare to see.

Sousuke visibly relaxes. Both hands return to Makoto's hair, giving Sousuke the leverage he needs as he begins to push his hips forward. 

Makoto takes it in silence, occasionally humming or moaning, making Sousuke's pace stutter and his grip on Makoto's hair tighten. He revels in it, revels in the way Sousuke's dick slides on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth. Occasionally, Sousuke pushes just a tad too deep, and Makoto can't help but gag. By now, though, they know each other enough—know each others tics and tells, those little indicators to pay attention to—that Sousuke doesn't need to ask if Makoto wants him to stop.

Sousuke gives a particularly sharp tug of Makoto's hair, and Makoto can't help but moan. The vibrations of his throat against Sousuke's dick makes him stutter. With a shaky breath, Sousuke pulls himself free of Makoto's mouth.

Makoto wipes off his mouth, and he rises unsteadily to his feet. Sousuke takes him by the elbows, steadying him while looking for any indication of discomfort. Finding none, he smiles. "Incredible," he whispers. He pulls Makoto in for a kiss. "I think you've more than paid me back for teasing me."

Makoto hums in response. "If that's the case," he says, mouth hovering over Sousuke's ear, "why don't you return some of the favor?"

"Says the one that wanted to wait to have sex until we got back home."

"I never said anything about _wanting_ , but _someone_ has to be sensible."

"Mm," Sousuke responds. "Too right. Does this mean you had the foresight to pack lube with the jacket?"

Makoto reaches around to take Sousuke's ass in both hands, using it as leverage to pull them closer together so Sousuke can feel Makoto's own erection, still trapped in his legskins.

"What do you think?"

Sousuke groans. He kisses Makoto soundly before he pulls away to dig through Makoto's gym bag, which lies just outside the stall. Makoto takes advantage of having the water to himself, letting it flow over his body and soothe his muscles. When Sousuke returns, he presses against Makoto's backside. He's removed his legskins, and his cock rests neatly against the cleft of Makoto's ass. 

"Brace your hands against the wall," Sousuke says, lips brushing against Makoto's ears as he speaks.

Makoto leans over, the water rushing down his back as he does. The steady rhythm of it puts his body at ease, his muscles unwinding bit by bit. Sousuke begins the process of working Makoto's suit down his legs. He pauses for a moment when he gets it far down enough to expose Makoto's ass, running his fingers over the skin. He thumbs against Makoto's entrance—just a brush, but it's enough to make Makoto moan.

"Not so loud," Sousuke says. Makoto doesn't need to see his face to know he's smirking.

He continues pulling the legskins down until they finally pool at Makoto's ankles, and he eagerly steps out of them, eager to get onto what Sousuke has in mind.

The sound of Sousuke snapping the lube open is barely audible over the sound of the water. Seconds later, Makoto is _very_ aware of a finger pressing against his entrance.

"Ready?" Sousuke asks, brushing against Makoto's perineum.

"Yes," Makoto breathes. "Please—"

Sousuke pushes in, robbing Makoto of the ability to speak. 

"You're so stunning like this," Sousuke whispers. "You're like a brilliant ball of life at this club, you know that? The way people look at you, the way you make everything here bright and warm—it's amazing. And knowing that you're mine?" 

He curls his finger.

"Ah, _Sousuke_ —" Makoto is very quickly losing the ability to put words together, otherwise he'd try to express how much Sousuke means to him, would try to say that if people look at him a certain way the same definitely extends to Sousuke, that Makoto himself looks at Sousuke with a measure of awe that's difficult to put into words—

And even more difficult when Sousuke pushes a second finger into him, stretching him further. The burn ebbs away into pleasure. Makoto's fingers clench against the unforgiving tile, and his breath comes in ragged gasps. "Please, Sousuke, _more_ —"

Sousuke presses in a third finger. "You holding up okay?" he asks, scissoring his fingers in and out, spreading Makoto open. They both know that it'll never be quite enough, not for Sousuke's cock, but that doesn't stop them from being thorough. 

"Yes," Makoto answers. Sousuke reaches around to stroke Makoto's cock, and Makoto's back arches, bucking his hips into Sousuke's hand. 

Sousuke pulls his fingers out but continues to stroke Makoto evenly, and Makoto knows what's coming. The tip of Sousuke's cock presses against his entrance, and he sucks in a breath. Sousuke squeezes his hip with his free hand. Makoto nods in response. 

Slowly, steadily, Sousuke pushes into Makoto. He rests his head on Makoto's shoulder, taking several deep breaths. Makoto bites his lip—he'll never get used to Sousuke's size, not really. He'll never be able to wrap his mind around how _filled_ he feels in these moments, how he and Sousuke manage to fit together so well.

Sousuke presses his mouth against Makoto's neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin of his nape. Makoto moans. It's slow at first, the way Sousuke begins to pull back. Just before he's about to pull completely out, he pushes back in. 

It burns a little—it always does—but Makoto can't help but moan. 

"You're going to get us in such trouble," Sousuke says. "There are still students around, you know. There could be one outside right now, wondering where that sound came from. Maybe they even recognized it as Coach Tachibana's voice."

Makoto bites his lip, choking on his own moans. Finally, once he's gotten his breath long enough to speak, he says, "You say that as if this wasn't all your doing."

"Mmm," Sousuke responds. His thrusts begin to pick up speed, and Makoto knows he won't be articulating anything else for awhile. "Says the one who wore my jacket _knowing_ it would get to me. And you say I started it?"

His next thrust is sudden, rough; there's really no stopping the sound Makoto makes.

Moving in earnest now, the sounds of Sousuke's hips against Makoto's ass begin to fill the stall. Makoto is doing everything he can to keep himself from being too loud, from giving them away, but there's only so much—

Suddenly Sousuke's fingers present themselves at his lips, and Makoto instinctively understands Sousuke's intentions. He takes the digits between his lips and sucks in earnest.

Except, well. Maybe Sousuke miscalculated, because now _he's_ the one groaning, stimulated by Makoto's tongue on his fingers and Makoto's ass around his cock.

Makoto would smirk if he wasn't otherwise occupied.

Sousuke finally hits Makoto's prostate, and it's a good thing his mouth is full, else they _definitely_ would have been overheard. Makoto clenches around Sousuke, and he feels Sousuke's hips stutter—they're both very close. 

Vision beginning to go white, Makoto straightens up. The change in angle elicits a groan from Sousuke, and while his thrusts become shallower, his speed picks up. Makoto's right hand tangles in Sousuke's hair, his left clenching around Sousuke's wrist, where his fingers are still pressed in Makoto's mouth.

"M'close," Sousuke grits out. "So close. Can you come untouched?"

Makoto shudders. It's not typical for him to come without Sousuke touching his cock, but this time—

Well, there's really no telling sometimes.

Sousuke bends him back down, farther this time, so Makoto's chest is parallel to the floor, and he drapes himself across Makoto's back. He latches onto Makoto's neck, kissing and sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. His right hand reaches around Makoto's chest, and the moment his fingers brush over his nipple Makoto sees stars. Every nerve ending in his body is firing at maximum capacity, and still Sousuke does not stop thrusting.

"C'mon, Makoto," Sousuke whispers in his ear. "You're so good for me, I know you can do this, and I know you'll be up for round two later tonight." Makoto groans around Sousuke's fingers. "And this time you'll be keeping the jacket on, I think. Riding me so I can see you in it, so I can see your face. You make the most stunning faces when you come, you know, your cheeks completely red, biting your lip—"

Sousuke thrusts in on that last word, and that's what does Makoto in. His vision goes white as he comes, back arching and toes curling as it rolls through his body, down to every fingertip. Sousuke continues thrusting throughout, riding out Makoto's orgasm before he finally lets himself go.

Finally spent, Sousuke pulls out of Makoto. He sags against the adjacent wall, chest heaving. Makoto straightens, muscles protesting as he does—sitting on the train home is going to be an interesting pursuit—and moves so he rests against Sousuke's chest. 

Sousuke wraps his arms around Makoto, hands linking at the small of his back. Makoto nestles his head just under Sousuke's chin. "Good?" Makoto asks.

Sousuke snorts. "You really need to ask?"

Makoto hums. "We should go," he says. "Before the physical therapy class gets in."

Sousuke sighs. "I suppose you're right."

"Sensible one, remember?"

"The conniving one, more like."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," Makoto responds, kissing Sousuke with a smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> it is 4 am and this is possibly late for the samezuka pairings day for tachibottom fest but here it is ~~
> 
> this goes somewhere in the soumako co-coach au [i ramble about on tumblr](http://rizahawkai.co.vu/tagged/soumako-coach-au/chrono) so hopefully there will be more in this verse? here's hoping.
> 
> [this was not supposed to be 3.5k oh god...]


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